


from my heart (von herzen)

by draitsaitls



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Attitudes, babe heffron being a good wingman, revamped version is on wattpad, this is really badly written i apologize
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draitsaitls/pseuds/draitsaitls
Summary: [ this is the original version! the currently-being-rewritten version is on wattpad @liebgone ]Post-Bastogne, feat. Joe Liebgott being a manipulative brat and realizing maybe Webster ain't all that bad.





	1. that sounds like a you problem, joseph.

  
"There's coffee outside."

Joe grunted, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and putting it between his lips. "Got a light?"

Babe nodded, tossing him a lighter. The two sat for a moment in silence, staring out the hole in the wall. "What's up with you and Web?"

"Fuck you mean?" Joe growled, shooting a glare across the table.

Babe shrugged. "Nothin'." He stared back out the hole. "Just sayin' maybe you shouldn't be such an ass and give him a chance."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Heffron." He growled, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

Babe rolled his eyes and turned towards the other man, resting an elbow on the table. "Aside from the fact that he lucked outta Bastogne, why do you hate him so much? He's pretty decent, all things considered." He hummed, stealing the dart from Joe's hand.

"Alright. Okay. I'll play along." Joe scowled, slamming a fist on the table. "He's a pretentious dick, he didn't do shit to try to get back to us, just fuckin' took his merry time resting up while the rest of us were gettin' blown to bits-"

Babe raised an eyebrow.

"-he obviously thinks he's better than all of us, a fuckin' rich boy with a goddamn god complex no doubt." He finished, glaring daggers at Webster who stood across the street.

"That it?"

Joe grunted again, snatching the cigarette back.

"Don't know about you, but if I had the opportunity to stay away from all this, I'd give anything."

Liebgott sighed, taking a large swig from Babe's mug.

Edward hummed, leaning back on his chair. "Think about it, Lieb."

 

 


	2. Sir that is my emotional support cigarette

  
"Hey," David said, flashing a small smile as he entered the room. Malarkey nodded at him and turned back to Jones.

 

"Web c'mere," Joe said, grabbing Webster's arm and turning him away from Malarkey. "You were at the CP, right? What'd they say?"

 

The small group of men gathered around David as he dumped his sack on a bunk. 

  
He shrugged. Joe prodded him. "Spill."

"Alright fine, but you didn't hear it from me." He huffed. "There's a patrol tonight. Captain Speirs is to pick 15 men, and Lieutenant Jones wants to be one of them." he paused. "Three are in this room."

"Who?" Chuck asked.

 

David hesitated to glance nervously at Babe. "Heffron—"

 

"Shit." He whispered, dropping his head to his hands.

 

"—McClung, and you." He finished, looking down at Ramirez. 

 

He looked back up at Joe. "That's all I know." 

 

"Fuck." Liebgott breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Prisoner grab, yeah?"

 

David nodded. 

 

"Alright listen up!" Malarkey called, turning towards the group. "I got bad news."

 

"Yeah we know, Web just told us."

 

David gaped. "Liebgott!" He hissed. 

 

"Okay, well PX rations are in and they've got showers for us somewhere." Don smiled weakly, clapping chuck on the shoulder and walking out the door.

  
"INCOMING!" Jones hollered, and the group piled out the door. "Basement!"

They clambered down the stairs and dove to the ground, dust falling in thick clouds. Joe cackled maniacally as the building shook. "Fuck!" He laughed, helping the other men to their feet.

"Jesus-" David muttered, stalking back up the stairs to the bunks.

"Web! Wait up." Joe called, hiking up the stairs after him. "I need to talk to you."

  
David peered at him nervously from the corner of his eye, watching the other man as he shut the door behind him.

"You speak German, right?"

"Yes?"

Joe leaned against the back of the door, blocking the exit. "I ain't going out there. If it's a prisoner grab then they're gonna need a translator, yeah?"

David nodded cautiously. "You want me to go for you."

Joe grinned snidely. "I ain't going out there." He repeated.

"Anything else?"

Joe's expression hardened. "Why the fuck are you even here?"

"Excuse me?"

"You barely got scratched in the ankle and it took you three fuckin months."

David scowled. "You'd prefer I'd have stayed away? You just asked me to cover for you!"

Joe stepped forward, jabbing a finger into David's chest, pushing him against the bunk. "I am not _asking_ you. I'm telling you. And that's not what I meant."

He sighed heavily, taking a step back. "Why did it take you so long? What happened?"

David stared at the floor, jaw clenching.

"Web?" Joe asked, softening.

"They bombed the hospital. Almost took my leg off. Now, will you leave me alone?" He growled, pushing past Joe into the hallway.

"Fuck." Liebgott whispered to himself, lighting a cigarette.

 


	3. WOAH HERSHEY BAR!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably misspelt a few things because i messed up the autocorrect on my laptop by accident lmfao.

"Second platoon!" Malarkey called, beckoning the group of men towards him. "I got the roster. Speirs wants me, Grant, Liebgott, Popeye, Jackson, Shifty and Webster." He then turned in the direction of the showers.

They watched him walk away, and Chuck scoffed. "Christ, he's only lost his five best friends, What the fuck's he's got to live for?"

David stood silently for a moment, then whispered to Jones about asking to take Malarkey's place on the patrol, and turned towards the direction of the CP.

"Web, wait up." Joe called, catching up to walk beside him. They walked in silence for a few minutes, barely flinching as mortars dropped in the streets around them. "I'm sorry, by the way." Liebgott muttered, lifting an arm to scratch his neck.

"You didn't know."

"Does anyone?"

He shrugged. "Probably Gene, he knows everyone and their grandmother's business." Liebgott laughed at this, quiet, and barely with a smile, but it left David with an odd feeling in his chest. He felt his cheeks flush, which confused him even more.

"Something wrong?" Joe asked, seeing the look on the other man's face.

"It's nothing."

Liebgott hummed, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. "You know, no one hates you for it."

"What?" 

Joe stopped walking. "For not breaking out. Being gone so long."

David scowled. "Kinda feels like it."

"Again, sorry." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just shocked that you came back at all. Figured you were transferred or somethin'."

"Nobody told me i was supposed to break out." David mumbled, embarrassed. "And i'm not making excuses, but getting shot through the ankle hurts like a bitch to walk on."

Joe nodded. "Not tryin' to give you shit for it, is all i'm saying."

They trudged on in silence until they came to the command post, and by the time they got there they were both shivering from the cold. David pushed the door open, and was immediately blasted by a wave of heat.

"-I said there's not enough to go around!" Luz yelled, snatching something from the hands of one of the men who was crowded around the small table.

"Woah Hershey bar!" Joe exclaimed, pushing past Cobb and Martin to gaze at the stacks of chocolate with stars in his eyes. Vest came up from behind the two, squeezing in beside Luz to whisper something in his ear. 

"Long time no see, fuckers." A voice called, and the group turned towards the doorway to see Perconte hobbling towards them. 

"Hey!" Luz called, lighting up. "How you feelin'?"

"Good, as long as you keep your hands off my ass." Frank grinned, catching the chocolate George threw at him. 

"He gets a fuckin' Hershey bar?" Joe barked, glowering up at Luz. David held back a smile at Joe's pout.

"Well, he got shot in the ass!"

Liebgott grumbled at this, peering enviously at the bar in Perconte's hands from the corner of his eye.

"I hear the krauts are finished." Frank said, peeling open the chocolate.

Liebgott huffed. “Well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the fuckin river tonight, grab a few, and ask them in person.”

Frank gaped. "You're shitting me."

"Jesus. Web, that reminds me, i need you to take these to OP2 for the patrol tonight." George said, handing David a crate of grenade launchers.

"You been working out?" Joe commented, squeezing David's bicep. Web flushed, avoiding eye contact.

 “Hey, Vest, what you got in there? More Hershey bars and Lucky Strikes for your rear echelon fuckster hoard, huh?” Cobb taunted. Vest ignored him, though still visibly ticked, and reached over to stack more items on top of David's crate.

“Hey, hey, hey, Cobb, with the mouth please. The kids just tryin’ to do his job, alright? Jesus Christ.” Luz said, shooting an annoyed glare at the man before leaving outdoors, followed closely by Vest and Jones. As soon as he left Joe immediately pounced on the stack of chocolate bars, shoving two into his coat pocket and cramming another three into the satch that hang over David's shoulders.

"Hey! I'm not getting in trouble if i get caught with these!"

"You won't, I'll eat 'em before that happens." Joe grinned, shredding the foil package and stopping for a dramatic moment to hold the slab of chocolate like an infant baby, staring at it with the same amount of affection. 

"Lord." David laughed, walking out of the building to deliver the crate.

 


	4. Nothing to see here!

 There are three things about Joseph Liebgott that you should know. One, you do not want to be anywhere near his bad side. Two, if anyone were to be on his bad side, it would be very, very,  _very_ unpleasant. Lastly, and most importantly, Joseph Liebgott is  _not_  a pervert. Flirtatious, yes. Maybe a bit over the top sometimes, of course. But not a pervert. He would never harass a woman, never ogle at them as they walk by, and he would never. Ever. Have feelings for a man. 

Joseph Liebgott is not a pervert.

 But when he sees David Webster walk by, when he does that thing where he leans up against the wall and absentmindedly chews on his lip, or when those stunningly icy blue eyes glare at him from across the room, Joe can't help but feel a tug in his chest. A thick lump rising in his throat every time Webster walks in the room. 

 At first, he hated him. He still does. But it's hard to feel angry when the only face you're met with is an innocent stare, a smile not tainted by the war. Purity. Not that any of them were pure, or angelic, or innocent, but if anyone could be, it would be David. So instead of scowling every time the man's name was said, he had to play off the burning red of his cheeks as simply the cold. Not that anyone suspected him, because everyone knows that Joe Liebgott likes girls. Pretty women, and if you were to meet him by first glance, you wouldn't think otherwise based on his pinups stapled to the wall of the bunk room, or the lustrous glances at the nurses as they walk by.

 Joseph Liebgott is most certainly not a pervert, and definitely not falling for David Webster.

➳

"You didn't eat my Hershey, did you?" Joe accused, sliding down the wall to sit on the sidewalk beside David. The man rolled his eyes and dug the chocolate out of his pocket and handed it over. They sat in comfortable silence, staring out at the road where a group from 2nd platoon were preparing for the raid. He suddenly threw his head back in laughter, catching the attention of everyone within hearing distance.

"The fuck are you laughing about?" 

Webster only shook his head, feebly reaching out to grab the Hershey bar from Joe's hands. He suddenly went serious, got up to kneel in front of Liebgott, and stared him in the eye. "Contraband." He whispered, cracking a grin and bursting out in a fit of giggles. Joe felt butterflies in his stomach, and played off the blush creeping to his face by deapanning and snatching the chocolate from Web's hands.

David crawled over to sit back down beside him, still giggling to himself. Joe's lips twitched slightly, and before he knew it both of them were snickering, faces flushed and a bar of contraband chocolate between them.

"You two sound like a bunch of schoolgirls." A voice said, startling them. They peered sheepishly up at the faces of Speirs and Lipton, who met theirs with amusement. 

"Whatcha got there?" Ron asked, gesturing to the candy in Joe's hands. 

"Nothing." David replied calmly, snatching the chocolate and tossing it into a bush a couple feet away, not breaking eye contact. Joe screeched, scrambling across his lap to fish it out of the shrub.

Lip raised an eyebrow. "Looks like a Hershey bar. Funny," he hummed, glancing at Speirs. "Luz seems to be missing a few."

David nodded, concerned. "We'll keep an eye out for them then." He then casually rested a hand on Joe's backside, Ignoring the man as he attacked the bush.

Liebgott halted his search and twisted his head back to glare daggers. "Webster."

"Hmm?" 

"Get your hand off my ass." 

Speirs eyed the chocolate hungrily, but ignored Liebgott. "Well, if you see any, remember-"

"Contraband, sir?" David interrupted, a small smile creeping to his face. Lip barked out a laugh and walked away, shaking his head. 

"-Remember to bring it to me." Ron finished, grinning mischievously. He nodded to David and strode away to follow Lipton. 

Liebgott coughed. "Web."

"Yes Joseph?" David replied, turning his attention. 

"Your hand, if you would." 

David squawked, pulling his hand away and dumping the rest of Joe's body on the ground. "There's fuckin' dirt on my chocolate now, dickhead." Joe grumbled, sitting up to brush it off. Both pretended not to notice the flush on each other's cheeks as they returned to silence. 

But soon M-G fire sounded again in the distance, reminding them bitterly of what was yet to come. As dusk creeped across the sky, and the cold with it, they retreated inside to the CP for their briefing. 

Liebgott tried not to linger too long on the slight sway of David's hips as he walked in front. His smile when he laughs, or the way he rakes his fingers through his hair almost constantly.  _Maybe falling ain't so bad, after all._

 


	5. Edelweiss

  
"Why don't you just tell him you don't want to go? Why do I have to do it?" David argued as Joe pushed him towards Nixon and Winters.

"Because I'll look like I'm tryna get out of it!"

Webster spun around, shoving Joe's arms away. "Aren't you?"

Liebgott sighed, exasperated. "If I ask him he'll say no!"

"You realize how stupid you sound, right?"

"Go!" Joe hushed, spinning the other man round by his shoulders and kicking his rear.

He grumbled, defeated, and stomped towards the officers. "Sir?" David halted, saluting the two.

"Webster." Dick acknowledged, not looking up from the map in his hands.

"Liebgott and I both speak German sir, is it necessary for two translators on the patrol?"

Dick looked up at Joe who stood a few feet away pretending he wasn't listening. "He made you tell me."

David shifted nervously. "N-no, he didn't. We're just uh, under mutual agreement."

Dick quirked an eyebrow. "Liebgott." He called, waving him over. "You want to sit this one out?" Joe nodded briskly.  "There's your answer." He finished, looking back down at the map.

"See, that was easy!" Joe whispered as they turned away. David scoffed.

"He would have said yes if you asked him."

Liebgott just grinned snidely and walked away, leaving the other standing in the hallway.

"Idiot." David muttered.

"I heard that!"

➳

_David groaned, searing red pain burning through his leg. "They got me. Can you believe I said that?" He laughed bitterly, as Roe helped him to his feet. "Fuck-"_

_"Can you make it to the aid station?" The medic asked, helping him to his feet._

_"Yeah," David replied shakily, steadying himself. "I think so."_

_Roe nodded and clapped him on the shoulder before hurrying off again. Webster watched him go, then stared down at his ankle. Blood was already seeping through the gauze. He shuddered, and weakly limped in the direction of the field hospital._

_"Need a ride?" A voice called. David looked up to see Spina in a jeep, hand out ready to help him on._

_He was told later on that the ride was fairly short._ _All he could remember from the trip was Spina saying something about him looking pale, and two days later he woke up in an empty hospital room. His first thought was "Oh my God, I'm dead", but soon the sounds of the bustling war effort of Holland filtered through the thin walls. Also, he rather unpleasantly noticed the throbbing pain in his swollen ankle._

_David grimaced, pulling back the thin blanket covering his legs to look at the wound. Tight bandages were thickly woven over it, but a patch of blood had soaked through, staining the sheets._

_"Ist er wach?" A voice spoke. He snapped his head towards the door to see two nurses peeking into the room._

_"Where am I?" David demanded, sitting up abruptly._

_"Hospital." One of the women replied, in a thick German accent. David's eyes narrowed._

_"Du bist Deutsch?"_

_"You speak German?" She replied, walking closer. The other nurse pushed a cart of supplies in front of her. He nodded hesitantly._

_"A little. What's a German nurse doing in Holland?"_

_"Same as you." She paused, kneeling to look at the injury._

_"Which is?"_

_The other nurse walked to the other side of the bed, setting a tray of food on a small table._

_The German woman smiled. "Fighting Nazis. Come, let me change this." She then cradled David's foot in her arm, carefully peeling back the gauze._

_"Shit!" David hissed, sinking back down into the mattress._

_"What is your name?" He looked up. The second nurse was young, in her early twenties. Her accent was German, just like the other._

_"David Webster." He gritted out. "You?"_

_"Marieke. Meine schwester, " she pointed to the other woman. "Elise. Marieke und Elise Abvernath."_

_David smiled tightly through the pain. "Morphine." Elise commanded as she started redressing the bandages. David groaned and gripped the bedpost with one hand._

_"Sorry." Marieke apologized, stabbing the syringe roughly into David's leg._ _After Elise finished dressing his ankle she left to finish her rounds._

_But Marieke stayed to talk to David about her home in Germany before the war, and about her parents and brothers, who were shipped to work camps in Poland. Her hatred for the führer was clear, but above all her compassion for everyone caught up in the war outweighed it, American and German alike._

_They talked for hours, exchanging stories of the lives they left behind. When he felt himself start to drift off, Marike kissed his forehead and smiled warmly, leaving him alone to rest._

_He dreamt of the golden fields of Marieke's home, chains of edelweiss braided into her soft brown hair, and her gentle smile, shining like the sun._

_But those sweet dreams were interrupted harshly by the raid. The first of the shells dropped into the building across the street. It took a moment for David to come to his senses, but before he could attempt to get up the roof collapsed, clouds of debris and smoke engulfing him._

_The bombing lasted for what felt like an eternity, and when the dust finally settled all he could see was blood and shrapnel._

_Once he was dug from the wreckage, he spent the next two months with a crudely fashioned cast running up his already injured leg. Two months of recovery. One month trying to get back to the only thing he had left, easy company. But wherever he went, nobody seemed to know where they were._

_So when he finally found them in Hagenau, he expected to see them the same as they were in Holland. But they had changed._

_The life was drained from their eyes. Cold shells of the men they were, hardened by what they went through in Bastogne. He was treated like a replacement, and in some ways, he was. Though not by choice._

_The memory of Marieke haunted him. Her pale face, brown eyes unblinking, a single trail of blood running down from her forehead across her cheek._ _To his horror, the more he thought of her, the more she looked like-_

"David?" 

He jumped, grabbing his cheek. Doc Roe had slapped him, and there stood Liebgott close behind with worry etched across his face.

"You alright?"

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, looking around him. "Yeah I-" he breathed, gaze locking to Joe. "I'm okay. Did you just- slap me?"

"Sorry." He drawled, smiling apologetically, and after checking once again that David was okay, left the two in the hallway.

"The fuck was that? You just fuckin spaced out on me, looked like you seen a ghost!" Liebgott demanded. The colour was drained from his face, brow tightly knit in confusion. "Web?"

David said nothing, only let Joe guide him to sit down on a couch inside a room. 

Joe grabbed him by the nape and kneeled down, forcing David to look him in the eye. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"I think I just did."

"Did what?"

David lifted his arm to remove Joe's grasp from his neck. "See a ghost. Or something. I saw-" he choked. "Her name was Marieke." 

"You met a girl back in Holland?"

Web smiled bitterly. Joe moved to sit beside him on the sofa. When he got no reply, he looked down at his hand that was being gripped tightly. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly. David suddenly hunched over, sobs wracking his body. Liebgott hesitated, then slowly draped his free arm over the other's back, pulling him close to his chest. 

_The more he thought about it, the more she looked like Joe._

 


	6. Cracking open a cold one with the boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt. title: the last chapter that follows the events of episode 8, because I'm terrible at combat scenes and i really don't want to write Jackson's deathOOps onward episode 9!!

"Hey Lieb, Webster," Jackson called, knocking on the wall. Joe looked up. "Found some hooch. Speirs said we still got 'bout an hour before we have to go." He then continued down the hall, passing on the message to the others from 2nd, to meet in one of the houses. Joe looked over at David, who by now had slumped off of the couch onto the floor. His eyes were still red from crying, and he was now staring blankly across the room.

"You good bud?" Joe questioned, lighting a smoke. The other man said nothing, only reached up to take the cigarette from Joe's lips to put between his own. "Alright then, fuck." He muttered, playfully punching David's shoulder. "You want me to bring one or are you comin' with?"

"What?"

"Gene." David tilted his head in confusion. "He found drinks." Web shook his head.

"I'd rather just stay here. Someone's probably gonna ask about, uh," He gestured to his tear-streaked face. Joe nodded thoughtfully. David huffed and passed the smoke back. "I feel like such a fuckin' pussy, Jesus."

"That's 'cause you are." Joe snickered, moving off of the couch to sit down once again beside the man. David shot him a contemptuous glare, which would have been enough to get Joe to shut up if he didn't look like a miserable teenager, hair sticking out in every direction. "Sorry." Liebgott laughed sheepishly.

"Fuck off."

"You want that drink or not?"

David sighed, tilting his head back to stare at the roof. "Yeah. I'll come, just let me wash a bit." He rasped, standing up and dragging himself towards the bathroom.

"Really though. 'M sorry." Joe muttered. David turned.

"Stop saying that. Don't be."

Joe groaned loudly and hauled himself off the floor. "Then stop bein' so fuckin' miserable. What am I supposed to fuckin' say? You just been mopin' around all fucking day, you whiny bitch."

"Fuck you!"

Joe wrinkled his nose, now one-hundred percent sure, through skillful observation, that Webster could not take a joke to save his life. His hypothesis concluded, he grabbed a pillow from an armchair and whipped it across the parlour with all his might, said pillow promptly colliding with David's head. Before the man exploded completely, Joe dashed from the room to the hallway, outside and across the street, and skidded into the half-collapsed café across the street where the group for the patrol stood with shots lined up on one of the tables.

Lipton, upon seeing the sheer glee on Liebgott's face, halted everyone from picking up the drinks. "Liebgott what did you do."

"Nothing," Joe responded, closing the door gently behind him and innocently pulling up a stool to sit. The door to the café suddenly burst open, revealing Webster in all his tainted, dishevelled, rather pathetic rage-fueled glory, call it what you will. "I have done nothing wrong in my life. Ever."

Babe snorted. Joe turned around to grin smugly at David but was met square in the face with the cushion. The men erupted in laughter as Joe yelped in surprise.

"What's going on here?" Speirs demanded, and all eyes turned toward the door once again. "Shots and no one told me?"

Lipton smiled warmly, handing his glass to the Captain. "I did, you just didn't listen." Speirs took a swig and handed it back, then turned his attention to the others.

"Winters wants you all to move in 20." This earned a loud complaint from the group, but he held up a finger. "So finish your drinks and get your shit together." He grinned, turning back to whisper in Lipton's ear.

They were all nervous. Terribly nervous and not very excited to be back out in the field. though they were all but guaranteed the utmost success, this was the first time since November that Webster had been in the field. Underneath his heavy jacket and gloves, and the pillow clenched tightly in his hands, he was shaking like a leaf. He pulled out a chair beside Liebgott and downed a shot, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat. Joe snickered, handing him the almost through cigarette back.

"Web, you okay?" Babe asked, scooting his seat towards the two. David sighed heavily and covered his still flushed face with his hands, peeking through at Joe who sat laughing his ass off. "What? What'd I say?"

"Nothing. I'm good." David replied, rolling his eyes. He smacked Joe again with the pillow and stood up, throwing back another shot before walking out.

"What's up with you two?"

Joe shook his head and stood up to follow Webster towards the barracks. "Needless to say, I thought about it. With a little help."


	7. Oh my God they were roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fellas is it gay to cuddle with your commanding officer

When they returned from the patrol the night before last, they had lost Jackson and obtained only two prisoners. After receiving the order for a second patrol, Winters submitted a forged report and told the remaining men to shack up for the night.

"Top or bottom?"

"I- Excuse me?" David spluttered, dropping his pack to the floor. The previous room that they occupied had been blown to shit by kraut mortars, forcing the men to relocate to a strip of small houses on the other side of town. Only one bunk could fit per room, they were that tiny. Or in the words of Liebgott, "Smaller than Hitler's dick".

"Which bunk, dipshit." Joe scoffed. But just as David opened his mouth he held up his pointer. "Actually, fuck you, dibs on top." Web threw his hands up in annoyance, tossing his bag onto the lower bed, grumbling passive-aggressively and dumping the contents out to rifle for clean socks. Joe clambered on the bunk and kicked his boots onto the floor, not bothering to get under the covers. He turned his head towards David but panicked, throwing his pillow at the sight of the man who had stripped down completely to his underwear. "What the fuck are you doing?"

David rolled his eyes, tossing the pillow back. "Changing, because unlike you I don't like to soak in my own sweat."

"I don't sweat!"

Webster grimaced, pointing to the man's boots that lay discarded on the floor. "Your feet say otherwise." Suddenly Joe's face lit up, mouth twisting into a wicked grin. He reached down to peel the two layers of woollen socks from his feet and threw them at David's chest, making a sickening ' _splat_ '. Webster screeched, batting them from his naked chest onto the floor. "Why are they soaked! Fuck!"

Joe snickered and jumped to the floor to pick up his boot. He overturned it, letting a puddle of water trickle out. " 'Conte pushed me in that runoff on the other side of the house." David scowled and kicked the soggy socks away from him, then bent over to pull a fresh pair of pants up his legs. Joe tried not to stare, but his eyes betrayed him and he gazed curiously at the other man. He was slender, but strong, muscles defined and skin slightly tanned. He hadn't stopped to think about it before but now that he did, he realized that the only word to properly describe David Webster was pretty. _Unfairly_ pretty. The only imperfection to be seen was a grotesque scar twisting around his calve, and fading yellowish-blue bruises littered up and down his leg.

He turned away quickly before David could notice him looking and climbed back onto his bed. The other finished dressing and putting away his things, then followed suit and turned the light off. "Goodnight."

"Mm." Joe grunted. He glared angrily at the roof, trying to burn away the image of Webster from his mind. Not that he hadn't seen any of the other men in their skivvies, but seeing David did something to him. Something he didn't like, and didn't want to think about. "Fuck." He mumbled under his breath and yanked the thin blanket from under him and over his body.

➳

  
Earlier that day they received the news that Easy Company would be moving off the line and that Lipton had received his battlefield commission, promoting him to Lieutenant. Speirs was in the process of packing his few belongings come nightfall, as well as a few that weren't when he stumbled upon the content Carwood sprawled across the small bed.

"Told you you'd get it." Speirs whispered, shoving a silver object into a duffle bag of other stolen wares. Lipton smiled softly, turning the unattached chevron over in his hands. "You know, I'm kind of sad to go, believe it or not. Just started getting comfortable."

Lip raised a brow. "Comfortable on the floor?"

"No," Ron scoffed, laughing. "The house. Hot food. Chocolate." He grinned, digging through his bag and tossing a bar to the other man. "Officer perks. You'll love them."

"I'm sure I will." Lip replied, snapping the chocolate in half and throwing the rest back. He watched Speirs cram a stack of folders into a box before he burst into a fit of harsh coughs that raked his swollen throat like knives. Ron dropped what he was doing and grabbed a canteen from the table, striding over to pull Lip to a sitting position.

"Fuck." He heaved, shakily unscrewing the lid.

"I thought you said you were better." Ron stated, kneeling in front of the Lieutenant. Lipton shrugged. "Keep the bed then. I'll wake you up when we have to leave."

"We could..." Lip trailed, hesitant. Speirs gestured to continue. "Share?"

He sighed heavily, knowing Lipton would keep insisting on not taking the bed to himself for the third night in a row until they reached either dawn or a compromise. "Will we even fit?"

Lip looked down at the small bed beneath him. "Dunno."

They did, in fact, fit. A little too well.

The next morning Lipton woke with the dim rays of sunlight peeking over the treeline, and the unmistakable presence of Ron's body pressed flush against his own with one arm firmly around Lip's abdomen to keep him in place. He lay there for a moment, mind still fuzzy from sleep and not realizing their position until the other started to stir. Then he gently slipped out from his grip and dressed, careful not to make a noise.

"Morning."

Lipton halted, hand on the doorknob. He turned to see a very bleak looking Speirs blinking up at him, hair tousled from sleep and voice hoarse. He smiled softly and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	8. Don't ask, don't tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hickeys and conflictions

_Babe groaned, nervously shifting in his hunched position above Liebgott and Gaurnere's foxhole. "Joe, for fuck's sake they'll arrest us and-"_

_"Yeah?" He interrupted, leaning back. "Them and what army?"_

_Bill rolled his eyes and smacked Joe on the back of the head. "We are the army, dipshit."_

_"I'm fucking serious. If anyone finds out we could be lined up and shot!" Babe rushed, voice dropping low to keep others nearby from hearing._

_"Alright, alright! Fuck!" Joe whispered. "It won't spread." Babe eyed him skeptically._

_"Heffron. We promise, alright? We're not gonna tell anyone. And we're not gonna let you get arrested." Bill said and punched Lieb's shoulder. "Right?"_

_"I already said okay!" Joe griped, smacking Bill's hand away. He sighed and twisted his head around to pat Babe's knee reassuringly. "Your secret's safe, pal." Babe nodded, smiling weakly._

_"Might want to fix your collar though," Bill called, as Heffron walked away. He stopped in his tracks and slapped a hand over a patch of exposed neck, blushing furiously._

_Joe watched him duck away out of sight and sighed, turning back the line. Bill raised his eyebrows and hit Joe's shoulder again._

_"What you keep fuckin' hitting me for?"_

_"Because you're moanin and groanin like a teenage girl, ya dipshit." Joe huffed and slouched down even further, saying nothing. Bill chuckled. "Alright, fuck. What's on your mind?"_

_"Nothin'."_

_"Bullshit, now quit fuckin sighing and tell me what's up."_

_Liebgott groaned and fumbled around in his pockets looking for a cigarette. "I just-" he paused, lighting the dart. "I don't know how to feel about it."_

_Bill snapped his head over to stare Joe in the eye. "Liebgott I swear to God If you so much as breathe a word about Heffron and Roe to anyone I'll shove my rifle so far up your ass you'll be shootin' krauts out your mouth."_

_Joe scooted away from the other man defensively. "I ain't tellin' no one, Bill. I swear! What I was tryin' to say was I don't know how to-" he paused, hesitating. Gaurnere prodded Joe to continue. "I want to not care but I feel guilty for bein' weird about it, you know?"_

_"Then don't be weird about it?" Bill suggested, raising a brow._

_"But how would you even know?"_

_"Joe, you're not makin' any fucking sense." He muttered, checking to see if anyone was looking before grabbing Lieb by his jacket lapel and yanking him closer. "What are you talkin' about?"_

_"Did Babe always know he was- you know," Bill tilted his head. "Queer? Has he ever talked to you about it?"_

_"Fuck, I guess so. We were drunk a while back in Aldbourne and we ended up talkin about it. Kid gets all serious when he's hammered, you shoulda seen-" He laughed, but stopped short when he saw a look of dread wash over Joe's face._

_"I think I might be."_

_"What, queer?" He asked, dropping his tone low. Joe nodded, not breaking eye contact. Bill hummed thoughtfully and lit another cigarette. "Webster?"_

_"Fuck no, stupid son of a bitch."_

_Bill nodded and dropped the topic, though there was a disbelieving glint in his eye. Joe gritted his teeth, glaring angrily across the open field separating them from the Germans. "There's nothing wrong with it Joe. Besides, what do we owe to anyone?"_

_He sighed once more, defeated. "Yeah, you're right." They sat in silence for a moment before Joe snickered and turned around to grin at Bill. "We?"_

_"Liebgott," Gaurnere smirked, smacking the man's head. "Watch the goddamn line."_

➳

If he needed anyone right now, it was Gaurnere. The man had a knack for being a hothead, sure, but when it came down to it, it would take a lot to make him actually angry. Joe found solace in him, and the two formed an odd bond. Neither liked to be open and vulnerable, so they saved those moments for the dead of night to talk about when no one else could hear.

He needed someone to rely on, and the thought of talking about things like these with someone else was a risk Joe wasn't willing to make. Only those closest to Gaurnere knew about his true identity, the one he kept hidden away.

So when he and Toye got hit in Bastogne, Joe lost one of the only sole forms of reassurance that he could trust, and here he was, teetering on the edge of no return.

No part of him wanted to openly admit his feelings, but a nagging thought in the back of his mind told him that if he didn't do it now, he might never get another chance.


	9. Rats, rats, we're the rats

"Sir, you can't just take-" Lipton grunted, as Speirs piled more silverware into his arms. "-These people's things!"

"You gonna stop me, Lieutenant?" Ron teased with a devilish grin. Carwood sighed heavily and let himself be tugged by the sleeve down the hallway. "Janovec!" Speirs hollered, storming into an occupied bedroom. Janovec stumbled off of the bed to salute, buck-naked in a tangle of sheets with a German woman behind him. Speirs paid no notice. "Where's my stuff?"

"I thought I'd leave it over there Sir." He stuttered, nodding his head towards a shining platter of silverware sitting on the mantle. Ron turned, grabbed the tray and spun around on his heel to stride out into the street with his loot and a very abashed Lipton trailing behind him. He led the other to a makeshift post office and kicked open the door harshly, startling Allen Vest out of his skin. 

Vest smiled nervously, taking the silverware from Carwood's hands and sliding it into a crate. “Same destination? …Boy, your folks are sure gonna have quite a collection by the time you get...” He paused, looking up at Speirs. He froze, paling slightly at the stone cold expression on the Captain's face. "...Home, Sir."

A devious grin twisted up Ron's cheeks. "Finders keepers." With that, he walked back into the street, leaving the door open for his Lieutenant. Carwood sighed again and mouthed a silent apology to the startled man, before exiting the building to follow Speirs once more. 

➳

Crisp spring air breezed past the men of Easy Co. as they rode down the scenic country roads of Germany. It had finally warmed up enough for the men to shed their heavy layers of clothes, and being pulled from the line had done much to significantly boost their morale. The war was finally coming to an end and they all knew it. As did Joseph Liebgott, wielding his scissors and shaving razor, charging whatever the desperate men of E Company could scrounge up as payment for his barber services.

For the most part the ride was smooth, allowing Webster a few hours of much needed rest in between the routine rounds of his comrades belting out  _'Blood On The Risers'_ with all the volume their lungs could muster. The abrupt sound of Liebgott's voice shook him out of his trance, and he opened his eyes.

"It's gonna be good times, Web... When we get home I mean."

David turned, looking at Joe as he pried open a less-than-appetizing MRE. He lifted the can to smell it, wrinkling his nose as a stale odour of salami wafted out. 

"First thing I'm gonna do is get my job back at the cab company in 'Frisco. Make a killing of all those fucking sailors coming home, you know? Then I'm gonna find me a nice jewish girl, with great big soft titties-" Joe raised his hands to his chest obscenely, gesturing those said breasts. David snorted.  "-And a smile to die for. Marry her, Then I'm gonna buy a house... A big house, with lots of bedrooms for all the little Liebgotts we're gonna be making." He finished, smiling widely at his conclusion. Web grinned and looked down at his food, shaking his head in amusement. "What about you?"

"Well," David paused, lifting his head again. He tossed the petrified meat over his shoulder in defeat and tucked away his unused spoon. "Finish school before anything else."

Joe quirked a brow. "You mean you've been goin' on about Harvard all this time and you ain't even finished?" 

"For one thing, I haven't told you anything. And the war happened before I could graduate."

Liebgott shrugged, waving David off. "Just assumed you already did, that's all." Silence fell between them momentarily. "So what'd you study?" 

"Literature."

"Get outta here, you serious? I love to read!" Joe marveled, sitting up out of his hunched position on the bench to turn towards the other man, who ducked his head in response. 

David cracked a grin, unscrewing the cap on his cantine. "Really?" 

Liebgott nodded, returning to his former slouch of comfort. He dug two cigarettes from his pocket, sticking one in his mouth and handing the other to Webster. He hummed, looking down the road at the other trucks behind them. "Yeah- Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon mostly. Yeah. Fuck!" He laughed, cupping one hand to light his smoke. 

David smiled gently, turning the cigarette over in his hand. Beside him, Joe started to mumble the chorus of blood on the risers under his breath, bringing another onslaught of melody as the others in the truck picked it back up. 

_**"What a hell of a way to die."** _

 

 


End file.
